


At The End of All Things

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Endverse!Castiel, F/M, Major Character Injury, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: Of course it had to be the end of the world for them to find each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally three separate prompts I received in my Tumblr page. They're loosely connected by a same timeline, in which Meg decides to betray Lucifer in order to survive and joins the survivors at Camp Chitaqua. Hope you enjoy!

Camp Chitaqua.

The sign was barely visibly under the heavy rain, and if Meg hadn’t been looking for it, she probably would’ve missed it entirely. She stomped on the puddles, not caring if she was seen or who could see her. She was pretty sure she’d been detected already, and the fact she was still standing meant that someone wanted her alive. To what purpose, she could only imagine.

She had barely taken two steps past the junkyard when she heard the click of a shotgun to her left.

“Stop where you are,” a deep voice growled.

“I’m not a Croat,” Meg raised her hands.

“You’re a demon,” the man pointed and Meg cursed under her breath. How did he know?

“Okay, guilty,” she replied, turning very slowly towards him. “But I come in…”

She couldn’t finish the phrase. The man’s face was obscured by a thick beard, and he was trembling and drenched to the bone in an oversized military jacket. At first glance, he was nothing but another survivor, of the kinds she had since by thousandths on her way there: unkempt, starving and willing to shoot anything remotely suspicious. But if she looked closely, she could see a brightness about him, a blinking aura smothered by the water falling on his face, almost like a, like a… like a halo.

The man’s blue eyes shone when he recognized her as well.

“You!” they both said at the same time.

“Clarence?” she asked, frowning. “What…? I thought all of the angels have left.”

“I thought all of the demons were too busy spreading chaos and disease around the world,” he groaned.

“Well, you need to take a break from that now and then,” Meg said. “I figured why not pay a courtesy visit to an old pal.”

“We are not friends.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Meg rolled her eyes. “I’m here to see Dean.”

Castiel lowered his shotgun, just a little bit, but Meg could have used the chance to take it away and shoot him with it if she had wanted to. She didn’t as a token of her good faith. When she sensed the angel hesitating, she added:

“I know where the Colt is.”

The inside of the cabin wasn’t any drier than the outside. In fact, Meg suspected by the bloodstains on the floor and the half-faded Devil Traps she wasn’t in a cabin at all, but a torture chamber. So that’s how Dean had been getting his info. Alastair would’ve been proud.

She didn’t say it out loud, of course. Dean seemed to be pretty on edge by the fact she was there freely spilling out the beans instead of waiting until he put her under his knife. And she loved a good torture session as much as the next demon, but now was not the time.

“That’s all I know,” she concluded.

“How do we know is not a trap?” Dean asked. He was pacing around the cell, clutching his shotgun and ready to do her in if she said anything incorrect. “How do we know you’re not lying?”

“You can’t know,” Meg admitted. “But there’s always something you can count on: my sense of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned and exchanged a look with Castiel. Meg sighed. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to go into any specifics.

“Lucifer isn’t who I thought he was,” she said. “He doesn’t like demons. He tolerates us because we’re useful to him. But as soon as he’s done with you humans… we’re next.”

A heavy silence fell in the room. Dean tapped his leg, pensively.

“Dean, you can’t be considering…” Castiel began.

“It’s the best lead we’ve had in months, Cas,” Dean pointed. “What do we’ve got to lose?”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he obviously wasn’t pleased with the idea.

“I’ll assemble a group,” Dean continued. “We’ll leave as soon as the storm ends.”

“Who do you want me to notify?” Castiel asked, solicitous. Well, he’d definitely got quite whipped since the last time she’d seen him.

“No one,” Dean said. “I’ll do it. You keep an eye on her. Don’t let anyone know she’s here. If they find out we’re harboring a demon…”

He didn’t end the phrase, and he didn’t have to. Meg suspected the real meaning of that was “we’re harboring a demon and not torturing it”, but honestly, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel offended. It was like the magnitude of what she’d just done was only now dawning on her.

She’d betrayed Lucifer. She had turned against her own father.

Castiel grabbed her arm and escorted her to a different cabin. She was soaking wet, but the cold didn’t affect her. However, she did see Castiel trembling slightly as they reached the cabin’s door.

“You don’t shine as bright as you used to,” she commented. “Why is that, Clarence?”

Castiel didn’t say a word. He turned on a kerosene lamp, found a towel and started rubbing his hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?” Meg teased him, sitting on the bed while Castiel closed what she deduced was the bathroom’s door.

“Where could possibly you go?” Castiel asked. “I doubt very much Lucifer would take you back now.”

“Touché,” Meg admitted begrudgingly.

Castiel came back into the room, opened a drawer and pulled out a flask.

“Well, you can say it,” she told Castiel, while he took a long gulp.

“Say what?” he asked, squinting in confusion.

“ _‘I told you so’_ ,” she specified. Castiel’s expression remained the same. “Carthage?” she reminded him. “No? You tried to kill me, threw me into holy fire and pretty literally walked all over me. Good times.”

“I remember Carthage,” Castiel said. “You let your hounds rip Jo Harvelle apart.”

“Well, you know, war and love, yadda, yadda,” Meg rolled her eyes. “I was following orders. I was a soldier, as much as you were.”

“You and I are nothing alike,” Castiel groaned.

“We’re both deserters,” Meg pointed.

Castiel struggled to find an answer to that, but in the end, he sighed and sat next to Meg on the bed.

“Touché,” he said and offered her the flask.


	2. Chapter 2

She was in his cabin when Castiel stumbled back inside.

“Rough day, Clarence?”

Castiel groaned and tried to ignore the demon lying on her stomach over his bed. It had been some time before Dean was convinced she wasn’t Lucifer’s spy and he’d allowed her to roam around the camp with a pair of special iron bracelets with Enochian symbols all over them to limit her powers. However, Meg had taken to plague Castiel at every chance she had, so Camp Chitaqua’s Fearless Leader could always count on finding her near or around the fallen angel.

Castiel had a headache (he had headaches a lot more often those days), so he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her right now.

“Go away,” he ordered her as he slammed the bathroom’s door shut.

When he got out, Meg was still there, of course. She was kneeling on the mattress, and she had taken off her jacket and her blouse. She never wore a bra, so her breasts and her rosy nipples were shamelessly exposed for him to gaze at.

“That what you really want me to do?” she asked, with a playful smirk.

That was an aspect of their relationship Dean was not aware of. Or maybe he did know, but he did everything in his power to ignore it. It wouldn’t be the first time he willingly ignored the obvious because he couldn’t deal with it. Castiel was certain that if he ever found out, the screams would be heard all the way into Lucifer’s retreat. Then again, it wasn’t like they were hurting anybody. As Meg put it, it was the end of the world, so who cared if they had a little fun while they waited for their inevitable deaths?

She had been surprised to find out Castiel agreed and wasn’t new to that particular brand of sin. In the wake of Sam agreeing to be Lucifer’s vessel, Castiel had experimented with all kinds of sources of entertainment that kept him from facing his failure and the consequences it unleashed. Meg was just the latest of that long list of desperate distractions.

Castiel was tempted to say that yes, he wanted her to leave him the fuck alone. Surprisingly, that had worked before, but he realized that he wouldn’t be able to convince anyone, not even himself.

Truth was, he needed her that night.

The mattress sank under his weight, and Meg lifted her face to offer him her mouth. Instead of kissing her, Castiel took his time to delicately brush his fingers against her eyebrows, her cheeks, her lips. He knew it annoyed her to no end that he wouldn’t just get down to business, but for once, she didn’t protest as his hands slipped down her neck and her shoulders.

“We lost two men today,” he told her, while he started circling her nipples with his thumbs until they hardened. “One was cannibalized by Croats, the other one was bitten and decided to blow his brains out before the virus took over.”

“Woah, you really know how to make a girl’s nethers quiver,” Meg said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She threw her arms around Castiel’s neck and pulled his face closer to hers. “I thought I told you I couldn’t care less about your little losses and your petty battles.”

“These petty battles are the only thing preventing Lucifer from storming in here and getting you,” Castiel said. “Need I remind you what he will do to you for betraying him if he ever finds you?”

“When,” Meg corrected him. She grabbed Castiel’s cheek with one hand and held him in place so he would be looking at her in the eye. “When he finds me. He’s going to find us all in the end. I thought that was exactly why we’re doing this. What’d you take?”

The last question was so unexpected Castiel wasn’t as quick to answer as he should have.

“Nothing,” he lied, and of course she noticed, because she crooked an eyebrow at him and waited. “Just a couple of pills, okay? It’s not like I…”

Meg got up from the bed so fast Castiel lost his balance and almost fell on his face.

“Oh, come on,” he begged as Meg put on her blouse back on. “Meg, I just…”

“No screwing while you’re tripping,” she said, with a shrug. “I thought we’d agreed on that too.”

“Why do you care?” Castiel asked, irritated. “You said it yourself, we’ve been defeated already. So what difference does it make?”

Meg already had a hand on the doorknob. She turned back to look at Castiel, and maybe he was too high, but he thought he saw a sad expression in her eyes.

“You’re right,” she mumbled. “It really shouldn’t.”

She still left Castiel alone with his hallucinations.

 

* * *

 

Meg was nowhere to be seen for the following couple of days. Castiel wasn’t too worried, though, because she couldn’t leave the camp without the Enochian spells in her bracelets warning them, and because, after all, he didn’t suffer from a shortage of distraction.

“So that’s what heaven is like?” the blonde girl at his left asked.

“Sounds trippy,” the redheaded giggled.

Her pupils dilated and her speech had become slurry. Castiel delicate took the bong from her fingers and inhaled a couple of drags before passing it to the blonde. He was high enough that he’d forgotten their names, but not enough to start touching them and kissing them yet, even though Blondie’s hand had come to rest on his knee and Red had both hands up her own blouse, obviously trying to get rid of her bra.

“The peace of mind you reach once you’re no longer bound to you physical body is infinite and everlasting,” Castiel said. “However there are ways to reach it, if briefly, during our time in this plane.”

He wasn’t sure what he was saying made any sense, but the girls didn’t seem to care much. They might have come to the fallen angel for some form of spiritual consolation in the beginning, but with Blondie’s hand creeping up his leg and Red placing her lips against his earlobe, it was obvious that their original intent had long since been forgotten.

The beads that hanged at the entry of Castiel’s cabin rattled and he lifted his head.

“Ah, Dean,” he mumbled. “Came to join us?”

Dean looked at him with the same contempt Castiel had seen in his face every time he found Castiel drunk or drugged, but the angel had become increasingly indifferent to his friend’s disapproval.

“Could you leave alone us for a minute, girls?” Dean asked.

Castiel’s guests whimpered and protested, but in the end they left the cabin, leaning on each other so they wouldn’t fall and giggling madly. Castiel sighed at the idea they would continue the party without him once they reached their tent.

“What is so important that you feel the need to interrupt my… amusement?” Castiel asked, as he sat down on the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning.

“Meg,” Dean said, laconic.

“Ah,” Castiel rubbed his temples. “Is she giving you trouble?”

“On the contrary, she’s been making herself very useful,” Dean said. “So useful, in fact, that I had to put her in time out inside a Devil’s Trap in a cell.”

Castiel twisted his mouth. He didn’t like thinking what went on at the camp’s cells with the demons they sometimes captured.

“I don’t see why that bothers you,” Castiel said, standing up to open a drawer in his old, beaten bureau. “I thought you sometimes enjoyed a bit of enthusiastic help.”

“She’s been getting too enthusiastic, that’s the issue,” Dean replied. “She keeps going even after the demons spilled the beans. She’s angry for some reason, and taking it out on them.”

“And you believe I have something to do with that reason?” Castiel asked, finally finding what he was looking for: his flask. He shook it next to his ear to know how much alcohol he had left before opening it and taking a swig.

“Of course you do,” Dean huffed. “Look, I don’t know what kind of weird deal you two have going on, and I don’t want to know. But you’re the only who’s ever been able to get through to her, so I need you to get her to calm the fuck down.”

“Ah, so this is a ‘control your woman’ kind of situation,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, Dean, but Meg is not as… easygoing as your average groupie.”

“That’s rich for a guy who organizes an orgy every other night,” Dean groaned, but he turned around in defeat anyway. “I’m going to keep her in the Devil’s Trap. You come to talk to her or you don’t. I really don’t care either way.”

He left the cabin stomping madly, and Castiel (or maybe all the weed he’d smoked) found it hilarious. He gulped down the rest of his vodka (he would have to join the next expedition of supplies, if only to get a refill) and crashed in his bed.

He woke five hours later with a hangover, a dry mouth and the awful sensation of not having rested at all. One of the worst things from his admittedly generally shitty life was the fact that despite losing all his angelic powers, he still had an angel’s metabolism, which meant he could never last high or drunk for as long as he liked. He dragged himself out bed, grunting from the pain, and went to the water supply. After spraying his face and his forehead, his mind cleared a little.

The sun was rising. Meg had been trapped in the cells for about a day, and he figured she must have been royally pissed, but Dean would certainly have no intention of letting her out. He’d better go see her before she summoned an earthquake out of rage.

He didn’t like going to the cells, which, in fact, were not cells at all, but the furthest row of cabins in the camp. They’d originally been inhabited by survivors that lived there, but as they left looking for a better place, disappeared or died, Dean had been occupying them to “interrogate” the demons they took prisoners. As far as Castiel knew, there were currently three demons in the camp, counting Meg.

He found her in the third cabin to the left. She was walking around in circles of her limited space, and looking like she would gouge the eyes of whoever was fool enough to come within her reach. Castiel walked inside anyway. Meg stopped her pacing long enough to glare at him and then continued like she hadn’t even noticed him. Castiel leaned over and broke the trap with a knife.

“I’m sorry Dean considered this necessary,” he said. Meg stopped her pacing, but remained with her back turned to him in stubborn silence. “Meg, you’re free to go now.”

Meg still didn’t answer, so Castiel took a step closer to her and tried to touch her shoulder. She grabbed his wrist so fast that Castiel’s first startled instinct was to put the knife against her throat. Meg didn’t even blink, but a slow, twisted smirk appeared in her lips.

“Figures,” she muttered, letting go of Castiel’s hand and walking by past him on her way to the door.

“Meg,” he called her.

To his surprise, she stopped. He hadn’t thought she would do that, but now she was turning her eyes towards him and he didn’t know what to say.

“Forget about it, Clarence,” she said, with a shrug. “You can bury yourself in women and decadence if you want. It’s not like I can stop you.”

Castiel understood: somehow she knew about the previous night’s almost party. Maybe she could smell the drugs on him, or maybe she had read his mind. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that she wasn’t furious, as Castiel thought she’d be. She looked disappointed. Frustrated, even.

And for some reason, that angered him.

“You’re no one to judge me.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” she replied, with a shrug. “I mean I wasn’t a much powerful, formidable creature than I am now, I so did not turn against my own kind and ended up stuck in this dumpster as a shadow of what I used to be. How could I ever understand what you’re going through? I’m only just another notch on your bedpost after all.”

She left before Castiel could even try to stop her. And in any case, he was too stunned to go after her.

It’d never occurred to him Meg had come to him in the first place because she thought they would understand each other. If he was being completely honest, he hadn’t even tried to guess the reason behind her behavior. He had been too busy sinking into his own iniquity to consider anything beyond that. Sleeping with a demon had been just another step into the slow road of numbness Castiel had chosen to face the end.

Meg had been looking in him the same he looked for every time he chugged down a pill: comfort.

But he couldn’t offer her that. Meg wasn’t going to buy into the cheap illuminated philosophy he sold to the other girls that came to his cabin, and sex alone obviously was not enough for her. He had nothing left besides that, and if Meg couldn’t accept that, well, that was her problem.

In the end, Castiel returned to his cabin, found the stash of oxy he kept hidden in his bathroom, and swallowed two pills to stop feeling like he should do something for the demon.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, when he stumbled outside Blondie and Red’s tent, he was so far out of his mind, he didn’t even find it strange when the floor was coming at him one minute and stopping the next because there was a firm hand over his chest and an arm going around his shoulders. He tried to fix his eyes on whoever was holding him, but there were very pretty stars flying everywhere, and they were very distracting.

“You’re high as a kite, aren’t you?” a husky voice asked in his ears, and Castiel chuckled at the comparison.

“Hi, Meg,” he said. “Where have you been? I’ve just had a really good time, I wish you have been there.”

“Whatever, Clarence,” she groaned. “Let’s get you to your cabin before you break your neck.”

Castiel tried to coordinate his steps, he really did, but it was as if his legs had become of that constantly trembling substance, what was it now… jelly. It was as if his legs had become jelly. He leaned all his weight on Meg, but she really didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you still pissed at me?” he asked, as she dragged him down the stairs of his cabin.

“Don’t remind me that I am while your life is in my hands.”

They passed through the beans and she pushed him into his bed. Castiel closed his eyes. The stars in the air had started spinning and they were making him dizzy. It wasn’t funny anymore.

“Meg?” he called out.

“I’m right here.”

Castiel opened his eyes to see her sitting by his side on the matress, with a hand over his forehead and a concerned expression in her eyes. He stretched his hand to grab hers. There was something that he needed to tell her, but he couldn’t remember what exactly. He tried anyway.

“It’s like, you want something I cannot give you,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “And it’s not because, like… I don’t care about you or something. It’s me, you see? I’m just… I’m too hazy all the time…”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Meg cut him off. “But I… appreciate the intent, I guess?”

“Good,” Castiel nodded, closing his eyes again. “I’m glad we had this conversation.”

A few seconds passed in which neither of them moved or talked. Castiel felt a pull, and held onto Meg’s hand even tighter.

“Don’t go yet,” he pleaded.

There was a long silence, and then Castiel heard a ruffle of sheets to his left. When he opened his eyes once more, Meg was lying next to him, and the stars were framing were face. She had never looked prettier.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m staying right here.”

Castiel smiled, content, and got his head closer to hers in the pillow.

“You know if it wasn’t for those icy blues of yours I would have taken my leave a long time ago,” Meg chuckled.

“Where would you go?” Castiel asked, squinting. “Lucifer would probably find you, and I imagine he’s not very happy with you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I was talking about the easy way out.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, confused.

Meg shook her head and put a hand over his cheek.

“Don’t give it too much thought. Go to sleep, Clarence.”

Castiel meant to protest he wasn’t tired, but his brain shut down the moment he closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“This should be simple enough,” Dean said, while he passed Castiel a gun. “We go in, we get the supplies, we go back. If you see any Croat, shoot it in the face and run like hell. Any questions?”

Risa lifted her hand over her head.

“Does she have to come along?” she said, pointing at Meg.

Like the rest of the party, Castiel was also looking at Meg, but not for the same reason. Dean had said the demon volunteered for the mission, but Castiel knew that she couldn’t care less about the medical supplies they had come to search for. He couldn’t figure out what was her angle and he supposed the uncertainty would be much worse for those who didn’t trust Meg on top of everything.

“Don’t worry, sweet cakes,” Meg said, winking at Risa. “I’ll be right where you can see me the entire time.”

“Meg is coming because the virus doesn’t affect her. Anything else?” Dean said, shutting down all future questioning about his decision with a single glare. “Great. Let’s get moving.”

According to their reports and calculations, the area should’ve been cleared of any infected, but those weren’t always precise. And it never hurt to bring along extra people and ammunition anyway.

They parked the jeeps a couple of blocks away from their target because the asphalt ahead was so cracked they would certainly get a wheel stuck in a hole. The group stalked down the street, looking right and left for any suspicious movements. Everything seemed calm enough. They reached the abandoned hospital’s doors without any incidents.

“Meg, Chuck, Cas, you stay here and keep a lookout for any Croats,” Dean pointed at the three of them with the cannon of his gun. “The rest come inside with me.”

“The toilet paper!” Chuck screamed at them while they were already disappearing inside the hospital. “Don’t forget the toilet paper! I hope they find toilet paper,” he muttered to Castiel.

Castiel wasn’t precisely worried about that. Meg was leaning against a wall, inspecting her guns like they were the most interesting thing in the world. She still had her bracelets on, Dean hadn’t allowed her to take them off even if it meant her strength would be diminished in case a fight broke out.

“Stop staring at me like a watch dog, Clarence,” she said, without even glancing in his direction. “I ain’t the most interesting thing about this place.”

Castiel disagreed. The cracked streets and half-demolished buildings spoke of a dying world that wouldn’t go out quietly and that was tragic and horrible in his opinion. Meg standing there with arrogance in the outline on her shoulders and a decided expression to take on everything that came her way was, however, a beautiful sight.

But he didn’t think she meant that, so he looked away.

“Why did you decide to come?” he asked, observing how Chuck paced around, still muttering bitterly about the shortage of toilet paper.

“I was bored,” she said, with a shrug. “Thought I would see some action. So far I’m not really impressed.”

“Of course, I’m sure the Croats are huddling together, getting ready to strike in a large number just to impress you,” Castiel said.

Meg made a strange noise. It took Castiel a minute to realize it was because she was holding back her laughter. Still, the grin in her face remained. He figured that was in a good sign.

“Meg, I know we’re not in a good place right now…”

“Don’t,” she stopped him. “We’re not doing the whole touchy-feely thing, not while you’re sober.”

Castiel wasn’t sure what she meant. He vaguely remembered talking to her a few nights before, but then again, he could have hallucinated that.

“Nevertheless,” he insisted. “I wanted to apologize…”

“Did you hear that?”

Castiel went quiet. To him the street was completely silent, but Meg was tilting her head and her eyes were getting black.

“Chuck, shut up,” she ordered.

The Prophet obeyed and gripped his gun even tighter.

“Shit,” Meg said after a second. “They’re coming from the left.”

That was a problem. The jeeps were to the left.

“Chuck, go tell the rest time’s running out,” Castiel ordered. “And that we’ll probably have to fight our way out.”

Chuck paled as he disappeared inside the hospital and Castiel barely had time to cock his gun when the first two Croats appeared, running at them with maddened eyes and blood around their mouths. Castiel didn’t even think about it: he raised his weapon and pulled the trigger twice in a row.

In retrospective, that might have been a mistake.

The detonation echoed all around the empty street and this time he didn’t need Meg to warn him they were coming. He could hear the steps marching out of pace towards them and soon half a dozen Croats appeared around the corner. They had been attracted by the noise and it wouldn’t be long before the street was swarmed with them.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding about these assholes huddling together,” Meg said by his side while she shot one that was coming at them swaying a piece of wood in their hands.

“Don’t let them get close!” Castiel warned her.

Dean and the rest of the party exited the hospital, all of them carrying stuffed backpacks that would certainly make them run a lot slower.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered.

It was seven of them against thirty Croats, some of them still sane enough to carry some form of rudimentary weapon and all of them were standing between them and their means of escape. There was no much time to elaborate a plan, so everybody just took their guns out and starting shooting. The scent of gunpowder and spilled blood invaded Castiel’s nostrils as the first of the Croats got closed enough to try to sway a wood plank at him. A perfectly rounded bullet hole appeared on the maddened man’s forehead, and he collapsed on the floor with a whimper.

When Castiel turned around, he saw Meg turning around fast enough to take another one out.

“Okay, let’s make a run for it!” Dean screamed when there were only a few Croats left. “More are coming for sure, so the people with the supplies go before, and the rest of us will cover their rear, alright?”

Risa, Aidan, Chuck and Luke, who were carrying the backpacks, swiftly made their way to the other side while Dean, Meg and Cas finished off the remaining Croats and ran behind them, their fingers firm on the triggers.

“Come on, come on,” Dean hurried them up while they threw the backpacks in got inside.

Castiel was just about to get in when a bloodcurdling shout reached his ears and paralyzed him long enough for him to see the Croat with wide eyes coming at him wielding a knife. Somebody pushed him out of the way with so much force Castiel ended up falling and hitting his head against the pavement. In his disorientation, he heard another gunshot and a whimper of pain before somebody grabbed him by the arm and lifted him to his feet.

“Cas, you okay?” asked Dean’s voice in his ear, but Castiel wasn’t paying attention to that.

Meg was on her knees a few steps ahead in front of the Croat’s corpse, and there was a pull of blood forming around her.

“Meg!” Castiel screamed, running at her.

“Oh, that fucker was fast,” Meg complained. She had a hand over her stomach and Castiel felt his heart stopping for an entire second at the sight of the knife’s handle poking at one of her sides.

“Meg, hold on…” he said.

“Come on, Clarence, I’ve had worse,” she said, even though she was wincing in pain while she leaned her back against Castiel’s chest. “Just help me pull it out. It should be fine.”

Castiel nodded, but he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling as he held onto the handle. Meg groaned as the blade left her body and pressed her fingers against the wound. They almost instantly got bloodstained.

“It’s not healing,” Castiel said, after holding his breath for a while. “Why the hell it isn’t healing?”

“It’s these stupid things,” Meg said, raising her hand for him to see the bracelets. “They’re inhibiting it.”

“We gotta get going!” Dean warned them.

Castiel cursed and without a second hesitation, he put an arm around Meg’s shoulder and another one behind her knees and lifted her up to carry her to the jeep. He slammed the door shut behind them and the wheels screeched as they bolted out in the Camp’s direction.

“It’s alright, Meg,” Castiel consoled her, grabbing her wrist. “It’s going to be alright.”

There was a click, and when Castiel looked up, he found the barrel of a gun pointing in his direction.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dean warned him.

“Woah, Dean,” Chuck said from behind the driver’s seat. “Be careful with that.”

“We have to take them off!” Castiel protested. “She’s badly hurt…”

“She can hold on ‘til we get back,” Dean determined. “And if she doesn’t, well…”

“She saved my life!” Castiel pointed out, indignant.

“I know, buddy,” Dean said. “But I can’t risk it. And I can’t risk people seeing her without the bracelets when we arrive. I already have enough problems for letting her roam around. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you very much, Dean,” Meg said, closing her eyes.

That was all she said for the rest of the trip, too busy gritting her teeth and groaning every time Castiel asked her how she was. Dean was right about something, though: had Meg been human, she wouldn’t have resisted the trip back, no matter how hard Chuck pressed the accelerator. By the time they parked the jeeps in the Camp, the bleeding had stopped thanks to the pressure Castiel had applied, but Meg was obviously still in pain and very pale.

“Castiel, you don’t have to do that,” Meg protested weakly when the fallen angel opened the door and prepared to carry her again. “I’ll be fine, just leave me here a while…”

Castiel ignored her, and he ignored all the confused looks he got while he ran to his cabin with the nearly passed out demon in his arms. He delicately put her down on the bed and desperately began opening his bureau’s drawers, looking for the first aids kit he knew he kept there somewhere…

“Cas,” she called out. “Castiel… Clarence!”

Castiel turned around to find she was sitting in the bed with a reassuring smile, pulling her shirt up for him to see her stomach.

“It’s healed,” she told him. “It’s fine, see?”

Castiel let out a deep sigh he didn’t know he was holding, and in two strides, he was sitting by her side and throwing his arms around her.

“Okay, but it still hurts a little,” Meg complained. “So maybe don’t…”

He let her go and looked at her face. Her cheeks were very slowly recovering the color, and her brown eyes were still feverish, but getting clearer.

“What were you thinking?” Castiel asked, grabbing her by the shoulders and resisting the impulse to shake her. “Jumping in front of that Croat like that…”

“What were _you_ thinking?” she shot back. “You knew Dean was never going to let you take the bracelets off and now he’s probably pissed at you.”

“I had to save you!”

“Right back at you,” Meg replied with a little smirk.

Castiel ran out of arguments, and in any case, he didn’t want to fight with her. Not when he had been so close to losing her. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then Meg tried to stand up.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Meg,” Castiel said as he saw her get to the door. “Meg, wait.”

For once, Meg stopped.

Castiel didn’t know what to say next. He wanted to say: “I’m still worried about you and I don’t want you to be out of my sight.” He wanted to say: “I’m sorry I was so caught up in my self-destruction I didn’t notice how you were feeling.” He wanted to say: “I need you. I love you. I only now realized how much.”

But the words got caught up in his throat, and all that come out of his mouth was:

“Please, don’t leave.”

Meg hesitated at the door, like she was considering leaving anyway, but in the end she stepped back inside the cabin and closer to Castiel.

“Okay.”

It sounded like she was putting a lot of weight into that single word.

As Castiel put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer for a kiss, he wondered if they would ever be able to say what they meant.


	3. Chapter 3

Meg punched her way up through the debris, breathing in the ashes and dust. She did some rapid damage control: dislocated shoulder, a few broken ribs. It wasn’t so bad. She’d had it worse. Her meatsuit would hold. She stood up on shaky legs, and looked around. Risa’s body was lying face down a few steps near her, with an ugly pool of blood forming behind it. Other members of the camp were also around, not moving, but Meg ignored them. She needed to find… she had to find…

“Clarence?” she called. Her voice came out broken, and she forced herself to vomit all the crap she had inhaled. “Clarence?”

Something moved among the debris, a soft moan of pain reached her ears. She ran towards her fallen angel. He had a leg trapped underneath a large boulder, and he was coughing softly.

“Castiel!”· Meg called him, as she kneeled next to him.

“Hey,” Castiel said softly, and smiled weakly. A trickle of blood was coming out from the side of his mouth. “I-I think I broke something…”

He coughed, and the blood spat on Meg’s shirt. She tried to convince herself it was almost invisible among the dirt that was already there.

“Hold on,” she said.

She stood up and pushed the boulder away with all her strength. Her muscles tensed, and at first the damn thing didn’t move. Meg got furious. She was still a demon. She was strong enough. She had to be. The boulder moved with a hollow thump, and Meg grabbed Castiel by the arm as delicately as she could and helped him stand up.

“Hold on,” she repeated. “It’s not so bad. I’ll take you back to camp. They’ll patch you up in a minute…”

“Meg,” he gasped. “Stop. I can’t… hurts too much…”

Slowly, Meg sat him down next to one of the few walls that were still standing. Castiel looked up at her with eyes foggy from the pain.

“Punctured… lung,” he explained, and every breath seemed to be a torture. “I don’t think… there’s anything they can do…”

Meg bit back a scream, because there was nothing she could do either. She couldn’t cure him. She couldn’t take the pain away. She was a creature of darkness and chaos, for fuck’s sake, she hadn’t been made for comforting others. She wasn’t even supposed to have a heart, but she could feel it breaking inside her. Her angel was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Stay with me…” Castiel begged, like he had read her mind. “Just… stay…”

“Of course,” she said, and she sat next to him and hugged him. Not as hard she wanted it too.

“I’m… I’m scared…” Castiel confessed, and Meg supposed it was logical. After all, he had fallen in every imaginable way.

“It’s gonna be fine, Cas,” she consoled him. “Hear my heartbeat, okay? Just focus on that.”

Castiel mumbled something else, but he was so weak, and his breathing had become so heavy Meg couldn’t understand it. Meg just ran her fingers throw his overgrown hair, kissed his forehead and the stubble on his cheeks and his chin and told him over and over that everything was going to be okay. She kept doing that until the light went off in Castiel’s eyes.

Only then she allowed herself to yell and cry, so loud she was sure she could be heard from miles around. She didn’t care. She didn’t care if a swarm of Croats closed on her. She didn’t care she was supposed to get up and inform Dean of what happened.

She didn’t even care when _he_ appeared in front of her with a roar of thunder.

Meg was familiar with the features he was wearing, but it would have been a lie to say there was anything that remotely resembled Sam Winchester in the man standing next to her. It had been years since the last time she saw him, when she realized even she, the most faithful of his children, was nothing but an insect to be smashed under his heel, when she realized her best fighting chance was with her formers enemies. When her loyalty changed from one fallen angel to another.

“Lucifer,” she greeted him coldly. She was still holding Castiel’s body against hers, but she didn’t let go, and she didn’t stand up. “I see Dean didn’t manage to kill you.”

“Oh, no, no,” said Lucifer, with a little shrug. “It was the other way around, I’m afraid.”

“Good,” Meg muttered. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done had she seen Dean again, now she knew his master plan had consisted in feeding them all to the meat grinder.

“I don’t know what you expected, my child,” Lucifer said. “Humans are temporary, after all. Fragile and fleeting,” he added, encompassing all the corpses around with one grandiose movement of his hand. “And yet you chose to love one.”

“He wasn’t human,” Meg reminded him.

“No, of course not,” Lucifer replied, in a tone that was supposed to be compassionate but came out condescending and mocking. He kicked aside another body and sat next to Meg. “I guess the real question is not why you loved him, but how come he ended up loving you. Because he did, you know? Despite being the filthy, corrupted thing that you are.”

Meg turned to look at him, with curiosity. It was almost like he expected his words to hurt her.

“You’re suffering greatly,” Lucifer continued, when he noticed the lack of reaction from Meg. “Would you like it to end? I can do that for you. I know I wasn’t the savior you were expecting. But I can do that much for you.”

“Well, aren’t you generous?” Meg said, and the bitterness in her voice was drowned by her grief. Lucifer offered her another smile, and then put a hand on her forehead.

“It’ll be but a second,” he said. “You might want to close your eyes.”

Meg was tempted to disobey him, but after a moment of hesitation, she did as he instructed. It wouldn’t make any difference. After all, her world had already ended.


End file.
